


The Other Side

by maybespyware



Category: Danny Phantom, Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja
Genre: Bodyswap, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Misunderstandings, well i remembered, you ever remember a show exists
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25078180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybespyware/pseuds/maybespyware
Summary: Danny wakes up to discover he's now an 800 year old ninja. Randy wakes up to discover he's dead. It's not a good morning for either of them.
Comments: 26
Kudos: 96





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Is this fic kinda stupid? Yes. Is anyone going to read this and be happy they did so? Debatable. Did I waste my time writing a chapter this long? Only time will tell. This was only written because I wanted to do a body swap fic, and I remembered RC9GN existed. To anyone who wanted me to update my other DP crossover fic, don’t worry! New chapter is practically done and will be up soon. To everyone else, enjoy this new train wreck.

Sunlight poured through the room onto Danny, lighting up the area under his eyelids. He scowled, determined not to have nature force him awake early on the one night he could get a full eight hours of sleep. Danny rolled over onto his side, face down into the pillow, feeling the comfortable warmth of the blanket shift with him. There was a faint scent of detergent in the sheets. He groggily noted that this was the most peaceful and warm he'd been in a while, before the observation dissolved into the hazy jumble of dreams. 

Until he rolled over again onto empty air. Danny's stomach lurched, a small yelp of surprise escaping him before he was falling. The flightlessness lasted for less than a second before he was sent sprawling against a hardwood floor, his head knocking against something on his way down. Danny jolted up, scrambling onto his feet as fast as he could muster, letting the blanket he was previously wrapped in slide off his shoulders and onto the floor. Pain bloomed where the impact hit hardest, running up in dull waves up his arms and skull. His fists were raised, on edge for an attack, but it never came. Instead, while he was scanning his surroundings for potential threats, a sinking realization dawned on him, forming a hard knot at the bottom of his stomach. 

This wasn't Danny's room. Panic started to flood him as he took in the new surroundings. His first thought, before he could process anything useful, was that he was kidnapped. His mind was racing. Was it Vlad? Skulker? Literally any of his hundreds of possible enemies? The questions didn't stop while he finally blinked away the tired haze in his eyes, watching as blurry edges became sharp again until he could fully comprehend where he was. 

Danny was in a typical crowded teenage bedroom. The boy's breathing slowed as his sudden panic started to recede when he realized this was the absolute worst place to hold a ghost hostage. Nothing was even tying him down. He stayed where he was for a bit longer, waiting to see if anything would make itself known, before he slowly relaxed and let his hands fall to his sides. Nothing was in the shadows, as far as Danny could sense. Tentatively, he started walking around the space, looking for any clues that could be helpful in telling him where he was. 

Posters were messily stuck everywhere, some hanging askew and clinging onto a single piece of tape, mostly of popular bands and some video games he recognized. He stepped closer to one to get a closer look at the artwork, before he felt something under his foot accompanied with a soft crackle. Frowning, he looked to see what he stepped on to find it was an empty chip bag, part of a pile of wrappers and soda cans leading back to a small flat screen TV sitting on the floor. A shirt was draped over it. Hooked up to it was a game console. Which, Danny noted, maybe with a little bit of jealousy, was the newest one on the market. A shiny red keytar was propped up on the wall near it, an instrument that Danny found a little lame, because he could definitely imagine someone like Technus playing it. Moving on, he started going through the side of the room behind him. 

It was noticeably less messy in this section. There was the bed he'd fallen out of. It was a tall almost bunk bed, a mattress nestled at the top and a desk built into the bottom of the wooden frame. School supplies and random junk were scattered across it, illuminated by a desk lamp that hadn't been turned off (which he'd made sure to do, because c'mon, that was just wasteful). The safety rail at the top of the bed had been pushed down, which explains why nothing stopped him from falling from on high. Danny rubbed his head with a wince as another wave of hurt washed over him. Disregarding the obvious hazard a bed like that posed, this would probably be the easiest room to escape from, even without intangibility. Especially thanks to the unlocked, big, open window to the right of him. 

It was breezy out, wind fluttering the curtains. Looking out of it, Danny couldn't recognize any of the buildings outside. Optimistically, this could be a street in Amity he hadn't been in before, but it didn't resemble the rest of the town. Everything seemed brighter and newer, absent of the apparent history most houses had where he lived. Not to mention everything was so much cheerier, lacking the atmosphere that had given Amity Park its signature haunted look. And no sign of recent ghost damage. His hands shook as he nervously gripped the window sill he was leaning on. How far away from home was he? There was no way of telling, but he could be in another town, another state, hell, another country for all he knew. Closing his eyes, he focused on the chill from outside brushing against his face, which was unusually warm. Getting panicked was probably the least helpful thing in this situation. Slowly, he started taking deep inhales. What happened last night?

Danny Phantom was ghost fighting. Ember had escaped yet again from the Ghost Zone, and was wreaking havoc at the local music store. She was far past trying to broadcast her music to the public anymore. Everyone in Amity Park was now well aware she wasn't human. So she was taking her anger at her plummeting record sales onto all other albums. Danny probably would have felt bad for her if she didn't immediately try to rock him into the cement. The rest of the fight afterwards was a blur. A quip here, a punch there, and it was over as fast as the conflict began. And then afterward… He'd gone home, hadn't he? Sam was on the phone with him, doing something with Tucker. Probably hanging out in her bowling alley. Without Danny, unfortunately. Most of the conversation was muddled in his memories. At that moment he just wanted to go to bed. He didn't remember actually ending up at home, or whether or not he fell asleep at any point, but he definitely didn't remember crashing at some random kid's bedroom. 

Maybe he fainted, and one of his more dedicated fans dragged him back to their house to try and help him. Danny was pretty scuffed up after the encounter, and it wouldn't be the first time an onlooker offered Phantom medical care. Even Mr. Lancer had once asked to bandage one of his nastier gashes. Obviously, most citizens had no idea how ghost biology worked, but it's the thought that counts. It also certainly wouldn't be the first time he was invited by strangers to rest indoors. Danny had always turned them down before, for obvious reasons, but if he was unconscious… 

Oh god. His identity! What did they see? Danny stumbled back from the window, carelessly pulling one curtain over the window as if someone was watching. Eyes flickered down to his hands, praying that he was still in ghost form, before suddenly balking. 

There were no white gloves. Danny's skin was paler now, just slightly, his fingers longer and thinner. He just stared at them until it clicked in his head, denial smoothing over into bewildered acceptance. He was human, but these hands were not his. Frantically, he found and ran to the nearest mirror, a full body one loosely leaned on a closet, almost tripping over his own legs with an awkwardness he hadn't had before. 

A different face greeted him. 

Danny froze, his thoughts momentarily stopping as his eyes swept over himself. The face belonged to a teenage boy, maybe a year younger if Danny had to guess. This person was tall, a good couple of inches more than him, and extremely lanky, to the point where they looked like a stick figure. The wrinkled, baggy white shirt and oversized boxer briefs only exacerbated their figure, comically so. Under the fabric were bruises, fresh and old, mottled purple everywhere over his shins. The kid's features were sharp and youthful, the nose slightly crooked on close inspection. Oddly, the most striking feature out of them all was that his hair was a deep shade of purple, a spiky haircut dyed to the roots. Something that Danny wouldn't be caught dead walking around with. 

Nervously Danny took a couple of steps back, watching as his reflection moved with him, as his foot caught on some trash lying on the floor and he flailed around trying to restore his balance. When he was finally done correcting himself and staring at the mirror like it had offended him, Danny leaned over, hand on the frame, deep in thought. 

"Well shit." Because this is exactly what he needed right now. Because the constant ghost attacks and last minute school papers were not enough to screw him over. Because life needed to find one more reason to make Danny Fenton miserable. Even his voice was different, higher pitched and scratchy. Well, looking at the bright side, at least he didn't have to worry about his secret identity. Danny gave out a dry chuckle at the thought, mostly out of sheer exasperation at the irony. He glanced at the mirror again, half hoping that he was hallucinating, on some weird ghost drug he must've accidentally ingested, and now was the part where he sobered up. But no, the same reflection looked up at him, the same squinted expression mirrored. Part of him was almost done with this, but the other part that was panicking hadn't fully subsided. Well, he had been wishing for a vacation. Maybe he was dumb enough to voice that thought out loud and Desiree decided to get back at him. 

Danny tried focusing. Trying to get ahold of his ghost side, or really anything, something. He tried, head now leaning on the mirror along with his arm, trying to mentally center himself. Going ghost was as easy as breathing to him now, so it's really uncomfortable to try walking himself through the process manually. Danny probably stood there like an idiot for a good ten minutes before he felt anything out of the ordinary. There was a spark of something, something powerful. It raised the hair on his(?) arms, a sort of tugging feeling in his chest, and for a second Danny started to get his hopes up high. Then it fizzled out, gone without a trace. He frowned. It didn't feel like ecto energy, but right now he was desperate enough to take anything. Whatever it was, it didn't resurface. 

Damn it. Standing there wasn't going to help him, he'd already wasted a bunch of valuable time as is. Whatever that spark was, he didn't think it could be recreated easily. And honestly, seemed pointless. Maybe he really was hallucinating. Hallucinations can feel physical, right? He'll think about it later. 

Danny straightened himself out as he went straight for the desk in the room, intent on finding something of use. There was a computer, also noticeably new, on the desk, but Danny was immediately blocked by a password. The hint on the neon post-it stuck on it was equally unhelpful: you already know it, schoob! He rolled his eyes. It was one of those kids. But he did try typing in the weird slang as the password before giving up. 

His next step was to look for a name to attach to this person. It didn't take too long before he noticed homework assignments scattered on top of a folder. Bingo. Right at the top, in neat blocky letters, was written Randy Cunningham. 

Randy, huh? It felt nice to finally be able to name the guy whose body he was stealing. The boy eyed the rest of the papers. A lot of them didn't look that helpful, but there was a chance there might be something in there that could clear everything up. Or at least tell him more about Randy. But it would take time, and who knows if Randy had some sort of appointment he had to keep. Actually, what day was it today? He checked back on the computer, still showing the date. It was Thursday, the next day. He groaned. At least he wasn't unconscious for weeks or something, but it still was a school day. Looks like Randy will be cutting classes today too, because Danny needed to figure out whatever was going on and reverse this ASAP. Plus, he didn't think he could handle pretending to be another person right now. Especially a person he's never met. 

Suddenly, the idea came to him that maybe the kid who's body he was in might be in Danny's body right now. He groaned. The last thing he wanted was some guy prancing around as Phantom. Just another reason to get this straightened out now. He didn't know for sure though, so he forced himself to stop thinking about it. Danny reached for the papers again before he heard the distant buzz of a phone. At first he ignored it and let it go straight to voicemail, but immediately the pixelated ringtone returned. Several times. Eventually Danny decided to just answer it, because it might actually be urgent, and because it started really annoying him. After a bit of rustling around, he found the smartphone under a history report. This better be an emergency. 

It was in a sleek red and black case, noticeably higher tech than Danny's current keypad phone. The caller I.D. displayed a picture of a chubby ginger kid, the name showing Howard. He let out a deep sigh before Danny finally accepted the call, holding it up to his ear and already scheming of the best way to bullshit his way off of it. 

"Hi-"

"Cunningham!" The new voice was loud, jarringly so, and it sent another throb of pain through his head. Danny had to physically tilt the speaker away from himself. "Where are you? I've been waiting around at my house forever."

So Randy did have somewhere to be. Danny let out a tired sigh as he pinched at his eyebrows. "Um, sorry dude, but-" he was quickly interrupted before he could pull out an excuse. 

"Don't "dude" me, man. Don't tell me we can't even walk to school together anymore without you snubbing me." Howard sounded frustrated, like this was a problem he'd dealt with already. Perfect, looks like Danny already managed to get himself into an argument. In record time, too. "So what was it this time? A monster attack? Because I don't see anything on the-"

"I'm just sick. I won't be coming to school today." Danny cut him off, not wanting to be stuck in the middle of a lengthy rant about a stranger's problems. Howard didn't sound like he'd be too helpful in figuring this mess out anyways. Danny added in a couple of coughs for good measure. "Sorry for not texting you. Go without me."

"Can't pull a fast one on me, Cunningham. You never skip school anymore. Last time you were sick I had to threaten to call your mom so you'd stop getting snot on everything and go home." 

Damn you, Randy. Danny stuttered, trying to come up with something. "W-well I'm more sick right now. I feel honestly really awful." Which wasn't a lie. Right now he was feeling terrible. Just not from a cold. 

There was a crackling on the other end, like the phone was being readjusted. "Honestly? Like, so sick you're not even going on about the whole "I've got a responsibility" thing?" Howard's voice got quieter, but the accusatory edge remained. Danny refused the urge to snicker. I've got a responsibility, to what, go to class? The kid he was in sounded so dramatic. 

"Yeah," He answered, when he realized Howard was waiting for an answer. 

"And this isn't you just making up an excuse to go NNSing on me again, right? 'Cause you sure don't sound sick." Howard questioned, and Danny could just feel the suspicion. He raised an eyebrow. NNSing? Of course, these two had their own friend terms. And ridiculous sounding ones at that. Then again, who was he to judge? Tucker tried getting them to say arguably weirder things. 

Since he didn't know what that meant, other than possibly ditching, Danny just awkwardly smiled and said "Honest." Making sure to get as nasally as possible to make it convincing. 

"And what's your plan if someone gets stanked?" And now Danny was completely lost. Might be another slang term that he wasn't in the loop for, but the sudden seriousness in Howard made him slightly doubt that. And made him chuckle slightly, because hearing someone say a word like that straight faced was a little funny. 

"I'll, uh, figure it out when it gets there." A classic excuse when he didn't know what he was doing. Danny already had his thumb over the button to hang up, about to say goodbye. 

"I'll be over in maybe 15 minutes, 10 if I skip the crossing signals." Howard answered, maybe even cheerier hearing that his friend was sick than he should be. Danny paled. "Get the cheese puffs out, I know you've been hiding them from me last–."

"Don't come over." Danny stated sternly, quickly backpedaling when he heard the other end of the line go eerily quiet. "Uh, I-I mean you still have school. And it wouldn't be right if you skipped classes." That would sound like something Randy would say, right? He seemed to be the responsible type. "My family, my mom, will-"

"Be on a business trip till next Monday." Came the reply, not missing a beat. "Cunningham, did you forget you told me about that? No one will notice. My parents already think I'm with you, and Heidi won't care enough to check if I'm there. No one's gonna catch us and dishonor your name or some cheese." 

Damn it, damn it. Well, at least he didn't have to worry about pretending in front of Randy's family members. 

"No, really, and it's super contagious, it'd suck if you got it." Danny was really tempted to try crinkling up a piece of paper, trying the bad reception trick, and ending the call, but that might just guarantee Howard will show up at the door. 

"Pfft, don't care. If I get sick I get to skip school for real. Besides, if you're telling the truth about you being sick, then you'll be fine. You're not the one one who'll get in trouble."

"Please-"

"Bup bup bup, and no quoting the Nomicon at me either. Not in the mood for a philosophy lesson. Still want those cheese puffs. See ya!" The smartphone beeped as the line went dead, leaving Danny holding it in shock. The boy moved it away from his ear and not too gently slammed it back onto the table, upsetting a pencil, and watched it roll onto the floor with a muted clack. A long sigh exited him, the former ghost's shoulders relaxing from unknown tension as he brought up a hand to rub at his headache. 

Looks like he'll have to get dressed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw shucks, guys, thank you so much for the immediate feedback. Thanks for checking and reviewing this hot mess. It made me really smile and I super appreciate it. Here's the next installment. I wouldn't say hold your breath for the next update, though. I'll probably be dedicating more time to my other fics. But stick around if you want. Hope you enjoy!

Randy was uncomfortable. The blanket he was swaddled in was sooo thin, doing nothing to block out whatever breeze was freezing him. He'd curled himself as tightly as he could, shivering slightly, head poking out from the cocoon and dug into the mattress. Time seemed to slush together, an imperceptible blur between him being aware he was awake and realizing something, sorry, someone was shaking him. 

"Come on, wake up." The voice was feminine, drifting into one ear and out the other, and Randy turned his head to peer at the person over him through almost closed eyelids. Vague, watery shapes were all he could see at the moment, forming an orange blob over a dark, blocky body. Oh, he must've fallen asleep over at Howard's house again. Heidi was trying to wake them up. But he was so unbelievably tired, and it was easier to just pretend she wasn't there, even while she was furiously rocking him around. The kid let himself droop back into his previous position. "Come on, Danny, I know you're awake. You've got school."

"It's Randy," The boy muttered noncommittally, more addressed to the mattress than to Heidi, knowing at this point Howard's sister would never get his name right. A dark wave of sleep threatened to take him under again. The shaking stilled for a second, before he felt the edge of the blanket being violently tugged and unrolled with a flourish. He groaned, loudly, as he was unceremoniously dumped out of the only source of warmth he had, slightly bouncing as he hit the bed again.

"Ugh, I'm up, I'm up." Slowly, Randy moved until he was sitting, rubbing his eyes until the worst of the grogginess had passed. It felt like trying to swim in molasses. There was a little "finally" from Heidi before he turned to face her, mostly to ask her what the cheese her problem was. 

This wasn't Heidi. Randy yelped, jumping a little as his breath caught in his throat. The redhead in front of him unfolded her arms, glare transforming into something of concern, before he melted into the bed, watching as her face disappeared from view. 

Randy felt every part of his body go numb. The gasp of surprise turned into a scream as he plummeted, seeing stuff go straight through him, arms flailing wildly in the air. He dully wondered if he was going to die or something, because whatever this is would be an incredibly lame way to go out, before he finally, finally solidified. 

But that meant nothing was stopping him from crashing. Really hard. The sound of glass shattering echoed nearby. Blinking, Randy laid where he landed, spread eagled, catching his breath as he tried to comprehend what just happened. Well, this might as well happen. Whatever he settled on poked excruciatingly into his backside. Everything hurt, but his pain tolerance must have been building recently, because the sensation began to ebb away the second Randy noticed it. The Ninja definitely took harder hits on the job. He squinted, the sudden brightness burning to his surprisingly sensitive eyes. The light cream ceiling he'd just dropped through was still very much intact, not even a crack in it. 

A moment passed before Randy realized he was definitely in trouble, and the ninja didn't want to be caught this badly off guard if he could help it. The boy rolled off of what he'd smacked into, which he was now realizing was a table. Silverware clattered onto the ground as they were dragged with him, Randy maneuvering with none of his usual grace. Even with his still slightly present fatigue, nothing could prevent the situation from overwhelming him. His brain noticed everything at once, and he was giving himself no time to slow down. 

Okay, kitchen. Randy was in a kitchen that wasn't the one in his house, or the one in Howard's. If he goes by that logic that means he woke up in a bed that wasn't his. And then apparently teleported between a bed that wasn't his to a kitchen that wasn't his. Currently he doesn't know what to do with that conclusion, because one, Randy wasn't fully awake, and two, he's hyperventilating from the adrenaline in his system too hard to gather anything else. Distant thuds sound from the stairs, and soon the girl from before bounded into the space. 

"Danny!" Randy immediately tensed up, looking around the area in case she was addressing someone behind him. The girl, maybe woman, he's bad at guessing ages, starts making her way over before she stops, probably because Randy must look visibly distressed. Now that he was looking directly at her and not jumping away, he mentally laughed at himself, because there was no mistaking her for Heidi, even for someone as bad with faces as him. Redhead had the hair and height, but the similarities ended there. Her concerned look from before was still present, slightly panting from the effort of rushing to get to him. "Are you okay? You're flickering." 

She had to be talking to him, right? Unless she'd named one of the kitchen appliances. No one else was around. Randy glanced down, and she's right, he is flickering. The flannel pants he's sure he didn't go to bed wearing are visible for only a fraction of a second before they disappear again, along with the rest of his legs. That observation doesn't actually register to him at the moment, uselessly sinking in his thoughts. Randy doesn't know what to do, or if he's dreaming right now, but she looks so worried for him it makes him nod, just to reassure her and make that expression go away. 

"T-totally, totally fine." Randy's voice sounded different, but he could easily chalk that up to the fact he was struggling to even out his breathing, and that he'd just been given the most chaotic wake up call in his life. "Falling, falling through the ceiling, normal Thursday."

"Danny, look at me." Redhead said, walking over to stand in front of him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder as a friendly gesture. Randy shied away from the contact, and she relented, but he didn't miss how Redhead scanned him, inspecting for any injuries. He did what she asked him, however, because what other option did he have, and made eye contact. Randy shivered, sensing frigid ice run through his left arm before it dissolved from sight right in front of both of them. An arm, he noticed, that is decidedly not the one that he has. 

"Just breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth."

"How are you not freaking out about this?" Randy asked, fanning his visible arm out to motion at where half his body was supposed to be, words slipping out of his mouth without thinking, because seriously, this stuff was next level creepy. It was admittedly kind of bruce, but right now he couldn't stop to appreciate the positives of having an invisible arm. Redhead gazed at him, as if she were confused on why he would be asking her something like that, until he saw something click in her, understanding seemingly dawning on the girl as a fond smile settled onto her face and stayed. 

"I'd never freak out about you, Danny. I'll always accept you for who you are, ghost or not." Randy felt his jaw drop open, any questions that sprung to mind stalled in his throat as Redhead dove in for a tight hug. A squeak rose out of him as she accidentally squeezed him hard enough to irritate his injuries, but instantly the iron grip loosened to a light hold. "I don't know what kind of nightmare you had to make you think that, but you'll always be my brother."

Well, him being dead would explain why he couldn't see his legs right now. Randy had seen waaay weirder things in Norissville to suddenly start discounting the idea of ghosts. But that didn't explain why he was suddenly an incredibly specific dead kid named Danny who was being comforted by a sister he'd just found out about that morning. 

Randy couldn't deny that it was really nice to have someone hug him, because he definitely hadn't had enough of those. The worst of the panicking had passed, everything in his psyche relaxing, and Randy saw how his hand popped back into view, like it hadn't just vanished off of him. However, it was also incredibly awkward, because this hug was meant for dead kid Danny, and not him. This was a super intimate family moment he was intruding on, and it made Randy guilty in a way he couldn't begin to describe. If he had subconsciously tensed, Redhead didn't notice. After she seemed sufficiently satisfied with her pep talk, she retracted her arms and grinned, more to herself than to him, as she patted him firmly on the back and started going to clean the new mess that decorated the floor of the kitchen. 

Redhead grabbed a dustpan, an oversized one that resembled a lab tool more than a household item. Slightly snickering, she sent him a smug face over her shoulder and added, "Seriously though? You were scared of me? I know I don't look my best in the morning but I should be a little less frightening than most paranormal entities."

"Right." Even though the teen's pride slightly bristled at the fact he, warrior chosen for his unwavering bravery, physically startled at the sight of her, he brushed it off as unimportant compared to the bigger elephant in the room. Paranormal entities. That were definitely real, because he had just seen himself phase through a floor and walk around with a bunch of body parts missing.

Randy needed to get away from here, figure out what the juice was going on, definitely see if he can call Howard. For now, he was Danny until he got his plan of action straight. Partly because that seemed like the best strategy right now, and partly because it would be really awkward to clarify to the person that just walked him through a freak out that he was a random kid who just happened to wake up in her brother's body. 

"Thanks for that, uh, sis." Randy cringed a little bit as the thanks left his mouth. Great time to be an only child, because he didn't have any point of reference on how to handle this conversation. Howard never referred to his older sister as 'sis', but the usual, casual insults his friend directed at Heidi would not cut it here. So he was improvising. The boy really needed her name before she caught on to the fact he had no idea what it was. 

Redhead raises an eyebrow, as if she was expecting some other response, but then smiles again and shrugs. "Anytime, Danny. It's true. Y'know, brush this off as overbearing sister advice if you want to, but you wouldn't get nightmares as often if you just got some more sleep." 

"More sleep, definitely." Randy answered, letting her interpret it as sarcastic or not. Maybe Randy should be catching some more z's, because if he was getting weird dreams like this something must be off with his sleep schedule. 

"Please do. Or I'll start drugging you with melatonin." She'd left him alone now, after giving him a weird expression, leaving Randy to uncomfortably stand there and rub at the back of his head while she swept away the shards of glass that were all over the tile floor. 

"Great, you managed to ruin the only breakfast in this household that wasn't alive." Redhead joked, sliding the ceramic from a former plate into a trash bin, before she stood with her hands over her chest in mocking mournfulness. Randy sheepishly realized, from the warm grease on his clothes, that he'd managed to land on the eggs now joining the shards in the trash. Ugh, gross. "You owe me for that, Danny." 

"Your fault for putting the plate where I could fall on it," Randy ribbed back, before Redhead rolled her eyes dramatically. He still felt bad about it though, might as well make it up. "I can remake your breakfast." 

"Woah, Danny, appreciate the enthusiasm, but you just dropped through the ceiling. Don't trust you near a stove right now." She responded, sifting through the giant industrial fridge near the aforementioned stove. Every few seconds she scowled at something in there before she produced a carton of eggs. "Besides, you burn water. Come back when you have your intangibility under control and normal taste buds." 

Intangibility. That meant he could phase through things, right? Wait, that wouldn't make sense, wouldn't that violate one of the rules of matter? Randy stared at his hand, pinching the skin on his forearm. Nothing happened. Was she joking? Redhead was watching him, drizzling oil over a pan. She opened her mouth like she was about to say something, before something thundered distantly inside of the house, coming from what sounded like the basement. 

Both heads swiveled to face the sound, and Randy flinched as two people came barging into the place, heavy weaponry slung over their shoulders. A heavyset man with broad shoulders, wearing a ghostbuster jumpsuit, was wildly swinging what looked like a bazooka around, a crazed gleam in his eye. Even more worrying was the shorter woman next to him, who looked like an alien, orange goggles fitted over a blue mask that hid her hair, connecting to the rest of her suit like a weird sci-fi hoodie. The woman was packing some serious heat, dual guns pointed straight at Randy and Redhead. 

"Where is it? Where's the ghost!" Shouted Ghostbuster, his voice a deep bellow that caught Randy off guard. Without thinking, he'd already gotten into the correct position to lunge at the pair, before they could start shooting at Redhead. Just before his feet left the ground, Redhead let out a frustrated sigh and gave herself an impressive facepalm. The two maniacs lowered their weapons, the man frowning in disappointment. Randy ate tile as he aborted the move last second and tripped from the momentum. 

"Can we please just have a little less chaos in the house this morning? Maybe sit down and eat food that doesn't shriek at you like a normal family?" She pointed her whole hand at where Randy had slid to a stop, miserably staring up at the situation, while her other hand came to rest on her hip. "Thanks to your antics, poor Danny is so on edge he's tripping over himself at the sight of you."

"Oh, Jasmine, honey, we're so sorry. We didn't mean to make you two so anxious." Said Alien. Randy could safely guess this was Danny's mom, now. Setting her gun down on the counter, she reached behind her to pull up the hood of her bruce looking lab costume. The smiling woman underneath looked nothing like Randy would have expected her to. There were smile wrinkles on her face, along with frizzy orange hair the same color as Redhead's. Or, actually, Jasmine, if he was listening correctly. Generally though, she exuded mad scientist energy. Which wasn't good, because all the mad scientists he knew have tried to destroy him at some point. Danny's mom came to help Randy up, patting his back lovingly as she dusted him off. 

"Sorry to you too, Danny. Your father and I were just worried. We heard a commotion, and we practically had a heart attack trying to find all our equipment to check on you both." She sounded so nice, honestly, and Randy could almost forget that this average looking middle aged woman had just pointed a wicked looking gun at him.

The man who Randy could now pinpoint as his dad puffed out his chest, stern gaze still scanning the marble surfaces. "Could have sworn our ghost sensors picked up ecto energy in here somewhere." His strikingly intense eyes bore into Randy suddenly, a questioning expression present on his square face. "See any lowlife spirits around here, son?" Randy shrunk away from him, feeling intensely scrutinized. Ghost hunters? Just his luck that he happened to be dead next to parents with guns that didn't seem very happy with spirits as a concept. If he wasn't being questioned by a man holding a very serious looking piece of weaponry, Randy would have probably laughed at the absurdity. This would have been a great premise for a sitcom. Didn't stop him from giggling under his breath though. 

"No, Dad." Randy answered. The boy was surprised when he clapped Randy on the shoulder, a big wide grin breaking away the previous seriousness. Now that he was smiling he looked incredibly harmless. 

"No ghost can evade Jack Fenton for long, Danny boy! Must have run away in fear at the mere sight of our superior weaponry." 

"Dad, could you just get the milk out of the fridge for me, please?" Came the request from Jasmine, maybe sensing Randy's awkwardness. "Danny, go get dressed, at least. You've got yolk all over you, and Sam and Tucker should be over any minute now."

"No problem, Jazzy Pants!" It was only when Danny's father turned away to run some sort of scanner over the fridge instead of getting milk that Randy realized he hadn't called anyone Dad… ever. Or as far as he could remember. 

A sense of wrong came to him as he turned around to try to navigate to Danny's room, already wondering what kind of friends the ghost boy had that he'd need to act in front of. Plus, Randy had school to go to while he figured this out. Danny may not be present for the actual classes, but he'd feel terrible making Danny ditch friends like that, and if he'd earned Danny detention he couldn't live it down with himself. Speaking of friends being ditched, he hoped Howard had already figured something was up, because the mental image of his best friend being stood up and not knowing why was awful. Wafts of eggs and bacon frying, along with enthusiastic chatter from the three people crowded in the kitchen, followed him as he went upstairs. 

Randy really didn't belong here. 

Thankfully, the door to the hallway bathroom was open, and he caught a glimpse of his face in the cabinet mirror.

"Huh." Randy was somebody else. Danny didn't look half bad, especially for someone undead. Bright, blue eyes stared back at him, with black bed head hair drooping over his forehead. The ninja frowned in disappointment when he noticed he was a good deal shorter now. It didn't sit well with him at all. Remembering some of the horror movies he watched, Randy started looking around for some sort of scar, or something indicating the cause of Danny's early demise. He was a bit bummed out when he didn't find anything interesting to look at. Turning on the sink, he pored over his reflection as he splashed water in his face, just to rule out whether or not he really was dreaming. Blinking as the water ran over his face, the only change he could feel was that he was a little colder than he already was.

Randy could have really used the Nomicon's help right now. Despite it being cryptic, stubborn, and overall obtuse with its advice sometimes, the book at least gave him a sense of direction. And he desperately wanted some of that direction right now. 

He could dwell on the fact that he was possibly thousands of miles away from his home, stuck in the body of a ghost kid with his own life and problems, but that's going to get him nowhere but sad. A determined smirk settled on Danny's face as he stood up straighter, reaching for a hair brush. Randy was going to look on the bright side of things, because optimism worked for him before and he was going to make it work for him today. The Ninja could deal with people trying to kill him daily without sweating it, so Randy could deal with whatever this was. Right now he was a guy with super bruce ghost powers with a ghost busting family, and he'd be a schoob for not taking advantage of it. Whoever Sam and Tucker were, they'd better prepare themselves, because he was gonna knock 'em dead. Pun intended. Randy still had a ton of questions, but he'd just decided he'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

Randy shivered hard enough to almost drop the brush in his grasp, cold crashing into his limbs before the eyes in the mirror flared green. The brush clattered onto the counter anyways, as it sunk out of his now see through fingers. 

He was definitely going to have to work on that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey fellas, me here. Thank you again for all your comments! Each one made my day. I'm incredibly happy you guys like my work enough to keep reading. And thank you to the reader who pointed out my melanin/melatonin mixup. I guess that's what I get for not proofreading. Please catch me on any other obvious mistakes. Anyways, hope you guys are staying safe, and enjoy today's installment!

Trying to get dressed was way harder for Danny than it should have been. First off, half of Randy's wardrobe was strewn about the room in the most random of places. Whatever was inside of the actual closet wasn't much better. Two shirts were clinging on for dear life to the hangers, and the rest of them that weren't as lucky were in a sad bundle at the bottom of the wardrobe. At least the pants were folded. Secondly, and this was Danny putting it nicely, Randy had questionable taste in fashion. Everything he owned were either intense multicolored graphic tees or had lame jokes printed on them in very noticeable stylized fonts. One of them even seemed homemade. Maybe Randy's style wasn't as out there as Sam's gothic chic, but it was still a little too eye-catching for Danny's comfort. 

Eventually Danny threw his hands up, sliding up from his knees and grabbing a red shirt from the pile. It was wrinkled and a little torn at the hem, but it was the only thing that didn't clash with itself and the boy didn't have the brain space or the time to search further. Howard would be knocking on the door any minute now, and Danny was planning to be out of the house before then. Yeah, it would be a really dick move on his part, but the ghost can't have a stranger tagging along with him while he was tracking down answers. The second Randy's friend gets involved with this, he would automatically be tangled up in Phantom's business. Adding a pair of random jeans to his selection, Danny groaned when he realized that now came the effort of putting the outfit on. He checked over his shoulder, affirming that the curtains over the window were closed, before he moved out of range of the mirror. 

Okay, this didn't have to be weird if Danny didn't make it weird. The boy tried to fix his gaze on a dent in the wall, but his attempt to focus his attention elsewhere failed. Danny couldn't even raise an arm without something aching. Randy must've been living a pretty tough life, and it made Danny concerned on what might have happened to net him some of the more hardcore scars he could see on his forearm. He honestly hoped that no one was going around and beating Randy up. The dude had the physique of a twig; it was almost surprising that he held up. He contemplated it while he shakily pulled the sleep shirt over his head. Danny had his own fair share of bodily damage ghost hunting, but thanks to the ectoplasm running through his veins, light pain and small enough injuries would evaporate within minutes. It's been a long time since he'd felt sore like this. Danny paused with the new shirt halfway on, a somber thought making its way to the forefront of his brain. 

Danny had forgotten what it felt like to be fully human. The realization left a bitter taste in his mouth, some indescribable feeling blanketing him. Something of his essence was just missing, the ecto energy that buzzed under his skin day to day wasn't there anymore, and its absence was frighteningly noticeable. He was generating his own body heat, too, which was amazing. Danny felt like he was constantly snuggling up to fresh laundry. 

"Wow, I can't believe Sam and Tuck live like this." Danny said out loud to himself, words slipping out before he realized that he used to live like that too. For fourteen years. And now that he had gotten that humanity back, it felt as foreign to him as when he first was adjusting to being half dead. 'Freak' floated across his thoughts unwillingly. Danny shook his head furiously, trying to get the impending existential crisis out of his head. And hey, on the pro side, at least he wasn't a walking air conditioner anymore. An exasperated sigh left his lips as he finished adjusting the jeans. "I should probably talk to Jazz when this blows over." He wouldn't, but it was a comforting thought nonetheless.

Walking to the mirror, Danny squinted at his appearance before he picked up the thin, greenish jacket lumped under it and threw it on. With the hood up and covering that purple monster of a haircut, combined with the single striped patterned shirt, Danny looked passably normal. With that issue settled, the boy swiveled around to start gathering whatever looked useful enough to take with him. 

Absentmindedly, Danny took one of the only non empty chip bags off the desk, popping it open. Randy's phone was going with him, obviously. He'd search for anything that he could use as a ghost weapon downstairs. He doubted he'd find something ecto-reinforced anyway, but it wouldn't hurt to double check for something sharp on the way out. Nothing else looked like any help to him, other than the navy blue backpack slung over a chair. The ghost was probably going to have to take some stuff out if he wanted to carry it with him. He'd have to be careful not to root around too much and invade Randy's privacy. Sighing again, Danny set it down again, putting the junk food aside and dusting his hands of potato chip salt, before he started going for the main pocket. 

Until something inside the backpack pulsed. Danny's arm shot away from it on instinct, pausing mid-chew in surprise. Light emanated faintly through the pack's material, a red glow shining through the teeth of the zipper. A low pitched humming sound droned into the room, clear and not muffled in the slightest. Instinct told him to kick the bag to the other side of the room and run. When something was glowing like that it typically meant it was going to shoot you or explode. Danny turned for the door, body twisted back to observe the bag in case he had to make a break for it, but several moments passed with nothing happening, the backpack just sitting there and steadily ebbing and flowing with light. The curious part of Danny won over the side that was telling him to just get going already, and with a determined expression he marched up to the backpack and opened it with a dramatic flourish. 

Danny's first observation was that Sam would totally dig this. The source of the light show was a book, the inlaid metal on the cover unnaturally glinting in its own illumination. Gingerly, still not trusting it to not blow up, Danny hooked his fingers around it and brought it out into natural daylight. Lines of crimson ran across the front in an intricate pattern, around a symbol in the middle. The cover was in impeccable condition, but it was easy to tell the pages inside the binding were ancient. The book pulsed again, and for some reason the ghost got the suspicion that the book was… annoyed, like it was getting impatient waiting for him. 

Ghost artifact, definitely. Something along the lines of Fright Knight's sword, or Freakshow's staff. Despite having no idea what it does other than blind people and have possible sentience, Danny already knew that this freaky, heavy tome had some role in whatever supernatural fuckery that was going on here. Why someone as innocuous looking as Randy had it, Danny could only guess, but it couldn't be good. The ghost had to get this book out of the house, away to somewhere he could go read through it properly. 

Danny looped a backpack strap around his hand and lifted it up, but before he could get the artifact in, the book rattled and forcefully swung itself open, paper whacking him in the face. The text went by too fast to clearly see what was written; the only thing he could discern was a foreign language as his vision started blacking out around the edges. 

It was like blinking. One minute Danny was standing on solid ground, and the next he was hurtling past rows of lit windows and hallways. He was bombarded by the smell of ink and old parchment. The ghost couldn't even get annoyed at how often he's been falling recently before he jerkingly halted in midair, levitating inches above the beige tatami mats beneath him, until whatever force that was holding him set Danny down gently. 

Surrounding him was a traditional dojo, composed of crisp, folded, crimson paper, the intricate walls of which extended endlessly to the sky above him. Actually, this entire place looked like it was built from the ground up with paper, the textured material painted over with vibrant inks. Quiet tranquility enveloped the area, the peaceful atmosphere interrupted by the contrasting paranormal aura around Danny. Which he just noticed he had again. Taking a quick peek at himself, he was still dressed in Randy's clothes, but his limbs were shorter, back to normal. Confusion clouded over him. So this book was similar to Fright Knight's sword. Except instead of sending you somewhere to live out your worst fear, it sent you to wherever this is. Another pocket dimension, maybe? Danny hadn't heard about anything like this in the Ghost Zone, but then again he was out of the loop for practically any gossip from there. 

"Okay, I'm here. If anything could please explain what's going on, that'd be great." He said aloud, voice raised so that whatever entity was in here could hear him. Pages rustling sounded behind him. As Danny was trying to swivel around to catch a glimpse of what was happening, something brushed past him until he was face to face with… a drawing. 

Literally, a two dimensional highlighter doodle of a cartoony ninja. Not what he was expecting, but sure. The figure came to a graceful stop, incredibly out of place from the art of this world. Its brows were angled downwards, giving Danny the impression it was glaring at him. 

"Hi." Danny waved at it, done trying to understand anything. If this was supposed to be his guide around this place, he'd bite. Anything to make sense of the situation. 

_**Spirit.** _

Calligraphy danced over the doodle's head, accompanied by an ominous tone descending over the pair, which Danny interpreted as the entity trying to speak. Almost stunned, Danny pointed to himself. 

"Me?" Neon arrows popped into existence, pointing at him accusingly. Shapes materialized out of nowhere, folding into itself until samurai in elaborate armor were surrounding him, origami swords out and at the ready. Danny stepped back nervously, hands up in a sort of peace offering. 

"Woah, woah, can I please not be stabbed before I've had breakfast? I promise, I'm not here to destroy anything. I just want answers." The ninja didn't move from its spot, as if daring him to continue. At the very least, the samurai subtly lowered their weapons. Danny let out a sigh of relief he didn't even know he was holding. "For starters, maybe you can tell me what you are?" The letters above the drawing wiped themselves away, shifting into a new phrase. The ninja doodle also started changing, its mask and uniform erasing themselves as it was replaced with a crude rendition of a person, somewhat resembling Randy. Green question marks formed around it. 

_**Deception always comes with a price.** _

"Deception?" Danny squinted, trying to figure out what this ninja book was trying to tell him. Great, now he was playing charades with drawings. The only thing he could gather from this is that Randy was involved, somehow. Doodle Randy was tapping its foot in frustration, motioning slowly back to itself and then to Danny. Suddenly, realization dawned on him. 

"No, no lying here. I'm not trying to impersonate Randy. Or whoever you were trying to show me." Danny stated defensively, watching as the sketch smoothly reverted back. "Listen, I have no idea why I'm in this person's body. All I know is that you're definitely involved, and I'd like some kind of answer as to what to do." Nothing in the book responded, leaving the area quiet again. Danny wasn't too confident that this book world would cooperate with him, mostly because it appeared to have a grudge against ghosts. Danny could maybe fight the answers out of it, but his odds would be heavily stacked against him. Especially when his opponent controlled the arena. 

The ninja stared at Danny in silence as the mats were yanked out from underneath him. The foundation making up the floor peeled away and let the ghost drop through the gaping hole left behind. Spiraling around in the air, caught by surprise and properly yelling now, Danny watched the dojo he was just in collapse on itself like a deck of cards, soldiers scattering in the fallout like leaves. Passages of text soared past him, phrases in bold marker interspersed through it, too far away and small to be legible. Again, some force stopped him in the middle of flailing for his life, holding Danny aloft in the air. The ghost took several shaky pants as he tried to desperately regain the air knocked out of his lungs. 

Danny panicked when he saw the painting below him loom out of the dead air under his feet, rising before him until it absolutely dwarfed him in size. It depicted a tawny fox, baring its teeth at him, the edges of the art's canvas torn. The same broad calligraphy he'd seen before with the ninja appeared over the head of it in a blaze. 

_**The fox in the hen house may still protect the flock.** _

"What the fuck." Is all Danny managed to say before the fox lunged at him, swallowing him in darkness. His stomach lurched. With a yelp, Danny jerked back, winding his leg back to kick at the animal.

Only to open his eyes to a Doomed poster, hanging against the grey walls of Randy's room. Danny was sprawled out, backpack propped uncomfortably under the right side of his chest, his hand inches away from the ghost artifact. Nothing seemed wrong. He was awake and alert, easily standing up from his position. Theories were running through the boy's head like crazy. Dusting himself off, Danny bent down again to pick up the black book. This was a giant lead. 

"So, you're 'sick', huh?" Came a voice just as he had it in his palms, and Danny groaned internally. There was Howard, leaning back in the desk chair with his feet kicked up on the table, fingers up in an air quote. Acting like there wasn't anything weird in finding his best friend on the floor. "Props to you though, Cunningham. You're usually way worse at lying to me."

Danny would rather fight Box Ghost right now than deal with this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a lot harder to write for a character when all they can say are inspirational quotes.


End file.
